


The Yellow Umbrella

by irishgirl321



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Explanation, F/M, Love, Oneshot, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sherlock AU, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock's return, apology, irishgirl321
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he revealed to John that his fall from the roof was not as fatal as everyone believed it to be, Sherlock Holmes has one other person to set things right with.<br/>Unfortunately for Sherlock, you've moved on with your life, and John is adamant that he just leave you be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yellow Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a simple one shot based on the events after 'The Empty Hearse'
> 
> It's a reader insert, as most of my work is, which means you are part of the story, with your name being represented by '______"
> 
> I hope you enjoy, it's possibly the longest one shot I have written so far!

Sherlock watches from across the street as you sit in the cosy, warm café. You're talking animatedly to some girls Sherlock doesn't recognize. He examines them and deducts that they're your colleagues from work, and that this Tuesday night coffee is somewhat a ritual between all of you.  
He stands in the cold as the wind whips his scarf and tugs at his hair while the rain drenches the soft material of his coat. He doesn't move.  
He can't tear his eyes from you.  
You hadn't changed much since he last saw you, but there are subtle differences. Things only he would notice.  
Not because he's a consulting detective, but purely because he knows you better than he knows himself.  
Your clothes are different, as your new, better paid job allows you to buy more expensive items for yourself. You seem more comfortable in them, and they fit well, complimenting your figure.  
Your hair has changed as well. Not in style, but in colour. Or maybe it's just the lighting in the café.  
The biggest difference, however, is the large diamond ring that now sits on the ring finger of your left hand.  
It catches the light as you gesture, and sparkles, sending beautiful colours over the walls and tables.  
It hurts his eyes to looks at it, and so he looks at the ground, trying to figure out what the burning sensation in his throat is.  
Suddenly he's aware of vibrations in his pocket as his cell phone rings. He knows who it is without looking at the caller ID. Only one person would be able to get his number half an hour after he bought a phone.  
"Mycroft" He says formally.  
"Hello, little brother. May I ask where you are? I rather expected you to be over at John Watson's. Perhaps catching up over a lovely tea and biscuits. But, well, I'm here, and you're... Not" Mycroft replies in his smooth voice.  
Another voice breaks in; "Gimme that" John snaps, and there's a faint fumbling noise as John begins to try wrestle the phone away from Mycroft.  
Sherlock waits absentmindedly as they bicker, watching you laugh at something a girl with red streaks in her hair says.  
"Sherlock?" John's voice grabs his attention.  
"Hello, John" He greets his friend, and he hates the sad, subdued tone in his voice.  
John picks up on it, and let's out a frustrated sigh.  
"You went to see her, didn't you?" He demands.  
Sherlock doesn't see the point in lying. He feels odd, empty, and he doesn't care what John and his brother will think of him.  
"I'm looking at her now"  
"Are you at the house!?" John's voice becomes panicked, and Sherlock almost - ALMOST - feels amused.  
"No"  
"Good" John says tiredly, and Sherlock knows he's rubbing a hand over his face as he does when he's agitated.  
"I told you not to, Sherlock. I only told you about her because you needed to know so you didn't just show up at her door" John says softly, and Sherlock can hear the pity in his voice.  
"I have to talk to her" He rasps, willing his friend to understand.  
John is silent for a few moments, and in the quiet Sherlock can make out the murmurs of Mary and Mycroft in the background. Then John speaks, and his words cause Sherlock's chest to flare with pain, even though Sherlock knows he's trying to be as kind as possible.  
"She's happy, Sherlock. Just leave her be"  
"I... I don't think I can" He admits, his voice choked with emotion.  
"She thinks you're dead. We BOTH thought that you were dead. She was a mess for weeks. You weren't there. You didn't see what she went true" John's voice begins to harden, "Leave her be. She DESERVES to be allowed to move on"  
Sherlock pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes in despair. When he opens them again he can see you standing up, bidding your friends goodbye as you prepare to leave.  
"It's going to be all over the papers in a few days. It's not fair for her to find out like that" He reasons, giving it one last, desperate try.  
There's more silence as John mulls it over, obviously trying to find something he can say to make Sherlock's point not seem valid.  
"She'd want to know, John, and she'd want to hear it from HIM" Another voice says softly, as Mary somewhat nervously gives her opinion.  
John breathes loudly for a few minutes, before finally agreeing:  
"Okay. She deserves more than finding out from a newspaper article anyway"  
Sherlock hurriedly bids them goodbye as you walk towards the door. John is snapping in his ear, whining and threatening. Eventually Sherlock just hangs up.  
You step outside into the rain, wearing a long, beige coat. You reach into your black handbag and ruffle around for a few seconds, before pulling out an umbrella.  
He stops when he sees the familiar yellow umbrella as a memory washes over him.

* * *

"I think we lost them" Sherlock panted, motioning for you to stop.  
You stumbled to a halt, and leant over, putting your hands on your knees. You gasped for air, and Sherlock stood slumped against a tree beside you. His legs were trembling from exertion and you thought that he might fall.  
"Do you always take the girl out to run from bad guys on a first date, or am I just special?" You quipped when you eventually got your breath back.  
He rolled his eyes at your cheeky grin, exasperated. That just made you grin even more.  
"This has never happened before, purely because this is the first date I've ever been on" He replied.  
"First half date" You corrected smugly.  
"What?" He looked confused.  
"You've only been on half a date" You clarified, "You decided to go on a case halfway through dinner"  
He looked at you petulantly; "I brought you with me, didn't I?"  
"Oh, so you want me to consider this to still be a date?" You asked playfully.  
"______, you're having way more fun on this date than you'd have had sitting in that restaurant, and you know it. Don't try to deny it" He said confidently.  
"How would you know if this is a good date?" You grinned evilly, "This is only your first date!"  
He gaped at you for a split second, then he thew back his head and burst out laughing.  
"You really know how to use your words as weapons. Don't you? I suppose at least you called it a date, and not a half date" He pretended to be hurt.  
You were just about to answer when the grey sky let out a roar of thunder, and broke open. Cold rain began to fall.  
"Damn!" You yelp as it soaks your clothes and ruins your previously perfect hair and make-up.  
"Here" Sherlock said, and pulled out a yellow umbrella out of his deep coat pocket, "Have this"  
You looked down at it in shock, then back up at him, and then down again. An amused look broke over your features and you let out a small giggle.  
"Is that the dead girl's umbrella that you're offering me?" You managed to choke out.  
Sherlock's eyes trailed down to the umbrella in his hand. He furrowed his brow as he studied it, and then a slight blush crept onto his face.  
"Yes, it is. I suppose it's a bit macabre, isn't it?" There was more than a hint of embarrassment and worry in his voice, and it also reflected in his blue eyes.  
Rain forgotten, you smiled gently and touched his shoulder lightly.  
"A little..." You admitted, and his face fell and be began to pull away, "... But I find it kinda cute" You finished, taking the umbrella.  
He froze and looked at you in shock.  
"You do?" He asked in disbelief.  
"I do" You concluded.  
He moved forward again, close enough for your chest to touch his. You were drenched to the skin and breathing heavily, but neither you backed away. His hand stretched out to brush a wet strand of hair behind your ears as your hands travelled up to grip the collar of his jacket. His arm fell to wrap around your waist, guiding you closer to him.  
"I find you kind of cute too" He said huskily.  
You smiled and pulled him down by his shirtfront, so his nose touched yours.  
"Look at that. Sherlock Holmes has a soft side" You tease quietly.  
He let out a low growl; "Can you stop joking for even a minute?"  
"Why? Got another case you gotta get to?" You murmured as your foreheads pressed together.  
"No. Because I'm going to kiss you" He retorted.  
After a moment you shrugged; "Yeah, I guess I can shut up for that"  
Then his lips were on yours, and you were responding with fervour, welded passionately against eachother as the rain poured down on you.

* * *

He snaps out of the memory as you begin to make your way home. He jogs across the street and follows at a distance. The streets are filled with people, and you don't notice him on your trail.  
He catches up with you as you turn the corner onto your quiet street. There's no one else in sight all of a sudden, and in the quiet he can hear you humming to yourself. It's something that he knows you do when you're feeling happy.  
He's walking around ten feet behind you when you pause. At first he thinks it's because you heard him, so he ducks behind a tree. You look around, and he can see the look in your eyes is sly instead of scared or anxious.  
As you move he has a clear view to what lies infront of you: A large, rather deep puddle.  
Satisfaction crosses your face when you gather that there is no one around. You giggle to yourself, and then leap into the puddle.  
Sherlock watches you as you stomp around in the puddle like a child, laughing joyfully as you soak yourself.  
And suddenly, he can't do it anymore. John was right. You looked happy, carefree. He couldn't just crash back into your life and stir things up for you. You didn't deserve it.  
HE didn't deserve YOU.  
He would write you a letter, that way you would get an apology, and it wouldn't be as painful for him.  
That was the moment that the wind picks up. The umbrella is yanked from your grip, and skitters across the road. Sherlock forgets what he's thinking, and runs after it to retrieve it for you. He couldn't have you running thoughtlessly across the road and getting hurt.  
"Thank you so much!" You gush as you hurry forward.  
The umbrella is blocking his face as he offers it to you, so you don't recognise him yet.  
"I'd actually get really upset if anything happened to it. It means a lot to me, so again, tha-" You cut off as you take it back and look up into his face.  
Even in the dim street light he can see all the colour drain from your face. There is a long, painful silence.  
"Sherlock" You wheeze, swaying slightly.  
"Hello ______" He murmurs, not knowing what else to say.  
"Is this real?" You ask, and the fear and pain in your voice hurts his already sore heart even more.  
"Yes" He replies softly.  
You look at him, unsure. He reaches out and takes your hand in his. His folds his fingers over yours and brings it to his chest, pressing it over his beating heart. You gasp at the contact as you feel the heat of his body.  
"Does this feel fake?" He breathes, his blue eyes burning into yours.  
You look at your hand against his body in shock.  
Sherlock brings your hand down from his chest. It's cold. He rubs it between his two hands quickly, trying to warm it up.  
"I don't understand" You gasp, and he sees you are crying silently.  
"I was never dead, ______. Moriarty had me in a position where I had to jump off that roof or his assassins would have killed you, John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. I had to fake my death in order to protect you all"  
He watches as you close your eyes, breathing in and out loudly in order to calm yourself.  
Not dead.  
Not DEAD.  
You could barely believe it.  
"Then why didn't you come back after? Why didn't you let me know you were okay? Christ, Sherlock! I went through MONTHS of therapy, and you couldn't even send a bloody text!" Anger had begun to replace the confusion and fear in your voice.  
"I had to lay low" He tried to explain, "Moriarty's associate's were still out there, and some of them didn't believe I was dead. I couldn't tell you. They were watching you and John closest of all. A change in your demeanor, you not mourning as you once were, would have alerted then that something was up. They would have tortured you to find out where I was. I had to take them all down so I could return"  
"You could have taken me with you!" You demanded, hand on your hips.  
"______, you know that's not true. Your absence would have been a major giveaway that I was still alive" He argued, "And what use would a veterinarian be hunting down criminals?"  
"Probably as much good as a consulting detective as a boyfriend" You shot back.  
"Well aren't you glad that's not the case anymore?" He snaps, gesturing at your engagement ring, "You've got a nice, lawyer boyfriend now. Robert, isn't it? I bet he's fabulous. Remembers every anniversary, buys you shiny presents, doesn't fake his death in order to save your life. Boyfriend of the year award! Can we get a trophy over here!?" By the end of that speech he was yelling, gesturing wildly to the deserted street around you.  
"He cares more than you did!" You scream, "Did you even give me a second thought while you were gone!? What is it!? Why did you follow me!? Hoping for another date to try even yourself with the rest of us!?"  
"You never left my mind while I was gone! I've been keeping tabs on you for the last two years!" He shouts.  
"What?" You gasp, deflating.  
Sherlock shrugs his broad shoulders in defeat.  
"I needed to know that you were safe so that I could focus on my job" He admits, quietly, "Mycroft had you watched so that I could get my job done. I had you protected until I could come back to you"  
His heart burns, and he looks away, swallowing painfully before continuing, "I worked as quickly as I could so I could cone back to you, but by the time I finally could; You have a fiancé. Mycroft neglected to even tell me you had a boyfriend" He smiles sadly.  
You look at him, and he wishes for the millionth time that he could read you, but he can't. He never has been able to. You stay silent, eyes flickering over his face as you take in his expression.  
He takes your lack of words as a dismissal and turns to leave, knowing he can say no more. If you don't forgive him now, chances are you never will.  
You're a stubborn woman like that. It's one of the reasons why he loves you.  
A single tear leaks from his eyes and down his cheek as he starts to walk away. He feels a gaping wound being torn in his chest, and almost cries out with pain.  
So this is what heartbreak feels like.  
He'd thought that it was just an expression up until now.  
"Sherlock" Your voice stops him.  
He turns slowly, not even daring to hope. You're biting your lip in indecision, but your eyes are clear, drained of all the anger that was present only moments ago.  
"Is what you said true?" You ask, a tremor in your voice, "Was there really no way to let me know?"  
He shakes his head sadly; "If there had been a loop-hole, I would have found it and I would have come back to you. Everything I have ever done, do now, and ever will do, is to keep you safe, ______"  
You think about this, and then move forward with a new purpose in your eyes. Hesitantly, your arm outstretches to offer him the yellow umbrella.  
"Here, take this" You say, and he would have thought that it was a goodbye except for the sparkle in your eye.  
"Is that the dead girl's umbrella that you're offering me?" He asks, testing where this is going.  
Your eyes light up even more, and he knows that he's on the right track.  
You move forward as you speak; "Yes, it is. I suppose it's a bit macabre, isn't it?"  
Sherlock feels warmth inside his chest, and he edges closer, speaking the next line.  
"A little, but I find it kinda cute"  
A sunny smile breaks over your face as you step even closer, less than a metre away from him.  
"You do?" You ask a little shyly.  
"I do" He rumbles, stepping forward so that you can feel the heat emanating off eachother's bodies.  
"I find you kinda cute too" You tell him softly, brushing a wet curl off of his forehead.  
His arms wrap around your waist, drawing you into him. Your arms move down to rest on his shoulders and pull him in close.  
"Look at that. _____ _______ has a soft side" He breathes, and you can hear the adoration in his words.  
"Sherlock?" You say, biting your lip.  
"That's not the next bit" He scolds you lightly  
"I know. I was gonna tell you that I've forgotten it"  
He laughs at that, and you close your eyes as it's low, musical sound washes over you. His forehead presses against yours, and you stare into eachother's eyes.  
"I..." He starts, but his voice dies.  
"You?" You murmur, rubbing your nose against his.  
"I... I love you, _____" He whispers finally.  
"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes" You reply, and he lowers his mouth to yours.  
It all comes rushing back to him. Your taste. Your touch. Your scent.  
The kiss is perfect, gentle and tender. Your arms tighten around his neck, and one of his hands goes up to tangle in your hair. The umbrella falls to the ground and rolls by your feet as the wind blows it. Neither of you notice.  
His tongue slips across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You open your mouth to him, and he takes his time exploring your mouth before dropping his tongue to play around yours.  
Electricity crackles in the air between the two of you as your hands rake through his wet, curly hair and his hands slide down. Your body arches at his touch, and you take his lower lip between your teeth and bite it softly.  
A low sound of desire comes from his throat, and in the next second he wrenches his face away from yours. You're both left gasping for air.  
You nuzzle into him, kissing his neck as he breathes slowly, calming himself.  
"You need to stop" He tells you raggedly.  
"I don't wanna stop" You mutter, but you draw back anyway.  
He holds your face in between his hands and kisses your forehead.  
"Neither do I, dear, but we should probably go somewhere drier, and a lot more private, if we're going to continue this. Plus, there is the matter of your fiancé to be taken care of..."  
"Rob" You say agitatedly, and he can see you're feeling guilty.  
"Now I'm just presuming that you actually do want to break it off-" He adds hurriedly, starting to look extremely worried again.  
"Holmes, shut up" You chuckle, pressing a finger to his lips, "Of course I have to break it off. I love YOU"  
He grins triumphantly, kisses you quickly once again, and then takes your hand in his. You briefly stoop to pick up the yellow umbrella, and then turn to look at him once again.  
"Shall we break it to him together?" He enquires, trying to smother the happy smirk on his face.  
"I'd be comfortable with that" You respond.  
Pulling you close to him, Sherlock puts his arm over your shoulder as you slid one around his back. He presses his lips to the top of your head once more, and then you set off to break the news to Rob.  
Together.


End file.
